


Time in Between Time

by MadameBizarre



Category: Disney Duck Universe, Disney Ducks (Comics), PKNA - Paperinik New Adventures, The duck avenger - Fandom
Genre: M/M, To Be Continued?, Unresolved Romantic Tension, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-08-29 04:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16737124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameBizarre/pseuds/MadameBizarre
Summary: Time has been settled and put to rest, but it has wrongly left The Duck Avenger stranded in an era that is not his own.





	1. Chapter 1

“You’re hair is in a bun.” The Avenger pointed out the obvious with a lift of his finger.

Odin looked up from the holo-pad in his hand, not straightening up from his leaned back position in the chair. He did not look particularly amazed at such basic observations, but gave the hero a smile nonetheless. “Yes, it’s quite hot today and I don’t wish to sweat anymore than I am.”

“I thought the weather in the future was perfectly tempered.”

“True, but then where is the fun in life if we are perfect  _ all  _ the time, hm? We have our hot days, we have our cold days, and we have our perfect days.” He put the futuristic device down on the table.

“What of you, hero? A tank top on jeans?”

“It’s hot.” The Avenger shrugged.

“Doesn’t the mask itch you?”

It didn’t, the fabric was genetically engineered by One in Ducklair  Tower, so it changed it’s own temperature accordingly not  _ only  _ to its wearer’s body vitals, but also outside influences. He could wear the mask the rest of his life and never be bothered by it.

“No,” He ventured closer to the businessman, feeling awkward as he did so. Odin Eidolon was a kind man, a good fan, yet the both of kept their distance for one reason or another which Donald himself could not pinpoint. Besides being strangers (not minding that Odin knew The Avenger’s adventures like any 23rd century person did), a certain sort of ‘push’ seemed to keep them at distance. The only time they had actually touched was the pitiful meltdown that happened the other day, and that was just too embarrassing for Donald to even want to remember.

His hand slid onto the table where another two holo-pads laid. Other than that, the desk was clean and glistened like everything else in the manor. Donald did not raise his eyes to meet Odin’s own, pretending to find interest on the tabletop. What was he to say or do? What did he  _ want  _ to do? The usual ‘push’, like two similarly charged magnets at war, curled in his muscles and tightened into shyness and nervousness, yet a boiling urge to lay his hand on Odin’s slender ones was what drove him to break it -- to connect.

“I hope you find everything in my home not too confusing, hero.”

Eidolon’s voice sounded almost  _ amused _ , as if he could sense what was happening, but Donald could also hear  _ it _ \-- the tinge of worry that they may be forcing what they shouldn’t. He didn’t lift his gaze, weakly nodding and humming: “Mhhmmm…”

“Good, I don’t want you to be any more uncomfortable than you have been. It’s been a very long few days.”

That was an understatement just to keep the mood safe, he knew the precaution all too well. “I know I’m not a burden in your home -- I mean, look at it, you could house three whole families in here…but I can’t be still for too long.”

His hand was dangerously close, almost feeling the heat coming off those slender, worn fingers; did Odin use them alot? Did he tinker so much that his flesh looked hardened yet so inviting to touch. They were no bigger than Donald’s, but they were longer and dainty looking in shape.

“If it’s work you are looking for then I’m sorry to say I haven’t much need for it -- Duckburg is safe and my experiments unneeding of testers....but if you truly wish, we could go out.”

“Out?”

“Not anywhere beyond the manor of course, I still have publicity to settle, but I do have a dining area as big as a restaurant, and a pool we can swim in on the higher level...Avenger.”

The way Odin seemed to utter his hero name brought a wave of familiarity and sadness -- as if the businessman had always been by the hero’s side saying it. Or perhaps, as if he had been longing to say it in just the right moment. How sad.

“Right, don’t want my being here known...it’d cause...uhhmm…”

“A frenzy of course, then add that on to my typical riot of fans... I’m sorry.” And with that, Odin slid his hand away with a hesitant twitch. Standing, his eyes wrinkled with a sad smile, but The Avenger caught the tired haze in those dark-green eyes.

“About what?”

“That you are stuck here.”

As if Odin hadn’t said that  _ a million  _ times before already. “No worries, I understand protocol.” Donald turned his back towards the other man and began to stroll off.

“But let's get go test out that pool now. I could use a good stretch.”

“And then dinner, I presume?” Odin chuckled.

“Of course!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had this idea in my head and written 3 years ago, then rewrote it a few months ago, now I want show it off, and I'll probably continue later on. A twist for the ending of issue #43 Time to Time where instead of Donald fading back to his time, he is stuck in the 23rd century for sometime; which is also a switch of Lyla's situation in PK2 where SHE'S stuck in the 21st century. Not for 15 years which is when time is fixed for traveling....or maybe yes 15 years. Dunno, time will tell for my muse. But yes, its Odin(ONE)/The Avenger, with alot of emotional tension, slowburn, and build up to a higher rating, because you know there is two centuries of Odin/ONE missing his hero ♡
> 
> ♡ Don't forget to Kudos & Comment ♡


	2. Pool Nymph

Standing at the pool’s edge, Donald watched the still water reflect himself in the blue trunks he had slipped on. Nothing like the rivers and lakes he had enjoyed around Grandma’s farmhouse while growing up, the water was like something out of a movie: blue, clear, and clean. The feeling that overcame him while looking towards the pool’s bottom was akin to what crawled up his spine in a hospital. It did not smell like chlorine, fresh soil, nor sterile whiteness either, disturbing him even further.

Not enough, though, to keep him from stretching one foot out and dropping into its depths. In an instant the brisk chill of water slapped Donald’s face, clearing his mind from all the tragedies the past few days had brought. As his body sank to the bottom and bubbles floated up, his mind rewinded to the moment of falling and the sound of someone coming out from the bathrooms not far off. A shadow cast over him from above, blocking light that shone from the glass, diamond-shaped windows that were the high arching walls around them, where one could peer outside of rather than the other way around.

Instinctively he looked up, thankful that there was no chemicals mixed into the water, and spotted the wavering form of Odin staring back. He opted not to swim up just yet, and sat there on the cement floor, turning his head to look around the large expanse. With no one else there but him in the pool and Odin above, a heavy loneliness overcame Donald, and absently his face lifted up once more, back to where his companion had loomed. To think that Odin lived in this humongous mansion by himself was too much for the twenty-first century man’s heart and mind to bear;  there were no signs of androids for companionship from what he observed, only robots, and not any model that Donald was aware of having a personality.

Turning his body so he was crouching, he gave a strong kick and broke the water’s surface, taking a single, gentle breath though he had been down there longer than a typical person could -- one of his many skills learned on the hero job. He swam back to land, watching as Odin stood not far off with a holopad in hand, busy concentrating on one thing or another. By the tall man were two pool chairs that matched those that  littered the pool floor -- alongside tables with umbrellas -- and a towel laid on each. A sun-hat and sunglasses were set on one of them, the only indication that it was Odin’s seat.

By the time Donald reached the ledge and began to pull himself up to sit, Odin had carelessly dropped the holopad on his chair and began to remove the white Caftan draped over his lithe frame. Donald had not meant to stare, but there he was anyways, blue eyes doing their best to discreetly watch the businessman untie the thin strip of fabric tied in a floppy, loose bow at his hip. The thin material of the Caftan was sheer, casting an translucent white coloring over the man’s already fair skin, and not leaving anything underneath to the imagination. With the tie undone, the Caftan loosened, becoming flowy like a dress, the little ripple like texture constrained by the fastening stretching out; being honest, the piece reminded Donald of a long-sleeved nightgown, with all the elicit aura one gave when worn to bed. Carefully, hands reached to pull down the wide neckline that hung off Odin’s shoulders, and with a small shimmy it fell and pooled at his feet, leaving him only in well-fitted green trunks.

At that point their eyes met, and Donald cast his own elsewhere --  _ anywhere  _ that wasn’t the green gaze warming his face. He felt like a creep, expecting some sort of indignant scold or teasing remark, but it never came. Instead he heard feet walk closer, realizing  the other man was approaching the side he was looking away from. With a snap up of his head, Donald was meant with Odin at the ledge -- his arms raised in a perfect dive-form. In the next second he only had enough time to watch him take a jump in, parting the water evenly as he went under -- splashing the hero.

“Hey!”

He watched Odin swim across the Olympic sized pool as if it were nothing, his body buried under the cascading shapes made from the pulsating flow of water. The sun rays from above beamed perfectly through the windows, reflecting off the crystal-clear water like small diamonds twinkling. If it were not for Odin reaching the end, Donald thought he could watch for hours on end as the agile form that was his twenty-third century friend did laps. A final swim back to where Donald sat -- wet and slouched forward -- and Odin was emerging from the water with his long hair draped around his shoulders, droplets trailing down over his face and over his neck. For a hard, long, second Donald felt his arm tense, ready to reach over to touch the damp skin to see if it felt as silky as it looked, but he had better control than that. 

“Do you ever throw parties here?” Donald was abrupt, forcing out anything from his mouth to cut through the awkward silence.

Laying his elbows on the cement edge, Odin bowed his head and raised his hands back to gather all his hair for a bun. “Occasionally, but only when I find it is time to keep partnerships fresh.”

“Like...with lady friends?” The hero watched, mesmerized as agile fingers worked with all that hair (like Rapunzel's, he thought), then his gaze fell lower, over the bared nape that no longer was curtained behind dark and green locks. There was a perfect, fluid line that was Odin Eidolon’s spine, leading down between jutting shoulder blades and further below the crystal-clear water.

Green eyes shifted over to him, twinkling and squinting as the businessman chuckled. “Sometimes, but I meant business related partnerships.”

You’re stupid and nosy, Donald cursed mentally. “Oh, my bad….it just seems so lonely here, I don’t even see any androids here. I guess you’re always on the clock.”

“As  one of the most prominent figure in this century, yes, I am. But I’m always with someone at least. May it be a call, meetings or dinner plans with one important person or another. Busy, busy, busy…”

That didn’t sound fun at all to Donald. The way Odin seemed to go silent as well only strengthened the thought. What was business partners to true companionship. Friends, siblings, cousins, lovers -- deeper connections in which to confide and take comfort in. Donald could never -- and  _ literally  _ could not -- imagine being alone like that. There was always  _ someone  _ there for him to lean on.

The water swished and Donald watched as Odin gently pushed away. His lithe form leaned back, turning his torso up so he could float away. “Of course I do have ways to get away from it all.” 

The hero could hear the smirk in that  voice. “Oh?” He slid back into the pool, gliding beside Odin with slow pulls of his arms under the water.

“But of course -- I’m not one to be still for long either!”

“You now know you’ll have to tell me how and take me with you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you behind, hero.”

Like a buoy, Donald’s body went as still as it could while not drowning. It hurt when the flash of memories overtook his mind, images of the only other being he knew to call him by that taking over his senses. It was the nostalgic feeling again, but it had only been a few days since being abandoned in the twenty-third century. The only reasonable explanation for the ache in Donald’s heart had to be the way Odin breathed the nickname, with that same smirk his voice seldom was without, and  _ oozing  _ with provocation of the salacious kind. However, the latter part seemed  _ highly  _ unlikely in this situation, so The Avenger shook it out of his head alongside the rest of those thoughts.

It was not hard to find Odin who had floated faster than Donald realized. His body was not terribly muscular, whatever there was of it was jagged, looking firm enough to give anyone who dared to try anything a broken nose if hit. With the pool framing his body, he looked like a professional swimmer if anything -- his torso jutting up and catching the slightest of sun in an attractive pose that could be sold for advertisements. There was also a smugness to it all, possibly from purposefully flirting with the hero -- though by now Donald could not even think of the possibility. Whether or not it it all connected, Donald did not dwell upon it any further, and dove under the surface to put his years of swimming to use. His body swam below the floating one with no issues, and when he turned over, Donald had the perfect view of a strong back that seemed to have no end until the smallest show of a dip that was Odin’s dimple of Venus made him avert his eyes out of politeness that was unseen by anyone but him. The shift in the water brought the businessman’s eyes open  too late, for in the next moment strong arms wrapped around his hips, pulling him under with a yelp.

Below all of the water, the duo laughed as Odin tried to tug away and Donald kept a playfully strong hold. Only when the taller body went to turn over on his side was he released, hovering stomach first above Donald who was laying on his back -- arms under his head comfortably to match his teasing grin. Green eyes filled with mirth, comparable to the kinds Donald had seen in fairy tale books of imps and elves. There was a magical sort of sparkle in those full eyes with their long lashes that fluttered even under water and his perfectly sharpened brows which only enhanced the otherworldly face of Odin Eidolon.

This man was flawless. Beautiful. And he knew it -- the whole world did.

Long fingers reached out for Donald as though they were going to gently caress him in some way (maybe his chest? Donald could at least say it wouldn’t be a soft touch). His heart seemed to jumped in his throat, because he could feel it beating there for sure. When finally fingertips made contact with his skin, a solid push sent Donald toward the pool’s floor, and his breath releasing in a flurry of bubbles.

The last thing he saw was Odin face scrunched up in silent laughter, then his backside as he swam back to the surface.

Donald grinned mischievously, always ready for a good chase.

* * *

 

An hour later and the two climbed out, leaving a puddle of water and footprints in their wake as they grabbed their towels. It was then that Donald had to once again hold his roaming gaze while Odin dried his face and body with gentle dabs; opposed to the straight on rubbing the shorter man was doing. It was not easy, and in the end he had bowed his head and bent to pretend he was focused on drying his legs, but in the corner of his eyes he watched as Odin took his Caftan from the floor and slid his arms into it. He was still damp, yet pulled the white fabric over his head and tied it loosely by the thin ties at his hip once more. The material stuck to his skin, darkening where the fabric absorbed and clung to the leftover droplets of water.

“Not gonna dry off some more?” 

Turning and walking over so he was a mere few inches from his hero, Odin shook his head. “I can dry off under the sun while we eat.”

Donald regretted not straightening up sooner, because where he stood bent over, and where Odin stood waiting for him to finish up, he was face to legs, and unfortunately he also had to crane his neck up to see the patient smile over the looming man’s lips. The angle meant he had to keep his eyes averted from the semi-transparent Caftan that did not hide the fact that green trunks were clinging to long, well-defined thighs, and conforming to the dip over his pelvis. That also meant Donald’s were doing the same, but that was a whole other embarrassing area to think about -- especially when all this ‘accidental’ ogling was of course leading to bigger issues for him that he did  _ not  _ want to think about.

Snapping the towel up and twisting it in both hands so it was a nice tube shape, Donald wrapped it around his shoulders. “We’re eating here? I thought you had a restaurant?”

“Yes, but I thought for now you would prefer something more  _ casual. _ ” 

Yes, after everything that had happened so far, Donald was grateful for his friend’s keen eye for moods. Odin was nothing but an amazing host so far, going far and beyond what anyone else may have done, and in a humble way that did not make the hero cringe. Of course, being famous himself, Odin obviously knew what it was like to handle fans, and what he would like if being hosted by one -- albeit that first time they met and he nearly caused an accident just to see The Avenger. The hero may have been new to being beloved by the media, yet knew he would not appreciate any sort of fan gushing over him in his current situation.

Grabbing his holopad, Odin pressed a few buttons and sat on his chair, lounging back like some sort of model for a vacation ad with his thin attire hanging off his long limbs --  towel long forgotten on the floor. Donald took an awkward seat on his own chair, and for the first time since setting foot in the manor, a droid made themself known by coming through the double-doors. She was like the other custom androids Odin had designed personally, looking nothing like Lyla and her 5Y model. Curly, shimmering, orange-gold hair flared around her short face and high cheekbones. It was no longer than shoulder length, and complimented her pale skin that was sun kissed over her shoulders, cheeks, hands, and other patches of bare flesh with brown freckles littering all over those same places. Even the make up over her plump lips, almond shaped eyes, and contoured jaw matched the color scheme alongside her thin-strapped cropped tank-top and flowing silk pants. She was a sun goddess with four purple robots flanking her as she came closer.

“Dinner is served, mister Eidolon.” She smiled with a pull of her freckled shoulders upwards and flutter of lashes

“Thank you, Sunna.” Odin looked up with a smile.

“Of course mister Eidolon.”

“How many times do I have to remind you that there is no need for formal titles, my dear? Just Odin will due.”

“Hmm, I dunno,” Sunna tilted her head in a way that was not all that discreet. “I guess I just enjoy saying it,  _ mister Eidolon _ .” She purred, then her electric blue eyes fell onto Donald. 

Immediately his entire body flushed and his stomach coiled with heat. He had been, once again, staring, but without realizing it. How could he when this woman was so heavenly -- truly Odin had an eye for aesthetic. 

Chuckling, Odin shook his head as if he were used to this. “Off with you Sunna, we both know you have more important things to do. You can flirt with The Avenger when you’re off the clock.”

“Not before I serve you and him a plate.”

“That isn’t necessary,”

“But I insist, I love to be of service.” And she strutted off to the two tables the robots had wheeled in that Donald had overlooked in favor of the golden woman.

Now he could see dinner was a buffet of steaming pots, and filled platters of what seemed to be picnic food. Very fitting for their pool day. The robots were gone by now, leaving only Sunna sticking out like a Goddess at the tables as she loaded one plate heavy with meat and another with fruits and vegetables -- easily meant for Donald and Odin respectively.

“She’s a playful woman, a characteristic that had never struck my mind in her creation, but that is what happens when you allow someone to make their own decisions.” Odin mused with his eyes looking over the unaware Avenger whose eyes stuck to the lady of topic.

“Oh yeah? Well with that appearance, it’s no shocker.”

“What can I say, I aim for the heavens when given the time. I only designed her face and gave her a default sort of ‘plain-jane’ appearance, but  _ she  _ chose what to do once she had settled into herself. “

Whatever could have possibly caused the woman to decide on looking like the sun incarnate, Donald was not complaining. His face followed even as she went back to them with the plates expertly balanced on one outstretched arm, and a bowl of fruit in the other. She placed the latter down before handing dinner over.

“Would you like anything else, Avenger?” Sunna held her clasped hands in front of her.

“Uhhmm,” He looked down to his food. “No….I’m good, thank you.”

“Anytime Avenger, I’m sure Odin will te you how to contact me if you need anything.”

“I wouldn’t dare deny the Avenger of your company, Sunna.” The businessman smiled before facing Donald and giving a wink.

Whatever that had meant ended up causing the hero’s face to flush. He once again watched dumbfoundedly as Sunna turned to leave with a sway of her hips, then finally laid his eyes on Odin as he pressed a fat, red grape in his mouth. Their eyes met once again, but as the last few times, Donald could not keep their gazes locked.

He could only mentally curse while his hands went straight for the plate of food on his lap.  _ Damn attractive 23rd-century folk. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So whatta'bout that Droids issue of PKNE, huh? Pretty underwhelming until I used the new years to make Odin a nice timeline. Anyways, I based Odin's pool wear off what I have & wore to the beach -- google tells me its a Caftan.
> 
> Thanks for all the comments too! 4 years ago when I was first into PKNA something like this would have NEVER gotten so much reception except from maybe a close friend or two I dragged into this series with me. Please do continue to support this story with comments! Tell your friends! HMU on tumblr @Snaccslut & check out my PK-Ramblings tag if you ever get bored too!
> 
> ♡ Besitos ♡


	3. Then Sun Goddess & The Brooding Hero

    The breeze flowed through the curtains with gentleness, then made its way towards the drapery that hung around the mahogany canopy. It’s flapping noise did not stir Donald from his bed, nor did the cry of birds outside. Even the strange buzzing and flourish of flying cars left him with no thrill of unfamiliarity like it had since his first night. He laid there staring towards  the canopy’s ceiling, his eyes vacant. Both arms were by his sides, tucking the thick blanket under his body like a sick child bedridden on a sunny day. With no thought behind it he turned his head to the holographic time displayed in simple bubbly font. One in the afternoon -- he had been lying there for six hours, unable to sleep in with his internal clock still in parental mode.

The moment he had woken up Donald’s mind instantly thought about hurrying to make the boys breakfast, then to what he should pack for their lunch, and finally hoping that he would not need to drag them (literally) out of bed. When his eyes opened though, he realized the truth of his situation: he was not at home, there were no boys to wake up for classes, and he was stuck in the 23rd century with no way of getting home and only fragile promises for a solution. Time had taken back the privilege to travel it’s banks and claimed multiple casualties that left dozens stranded in the wrong eras -- Donald Duck included. His nephews would be waking up on another day without their uncle who left without a word, casting them off into the care of their great-uncle. Deserting them like their mother had. Dropped from one uncle to another as though they were unwanted orphans, wondering what they had done to be left adrift. His poor kids that he had promised so many time after their  bouts of crying and self-pity that he would never leave them. Cooing vows that he loved them with every fiber in his body like their mother had before her unfortunate death;  _ “She was coming back, she promised, and Della Duck never goes back on a promise” _ he would reassure them as he dried their tears. 

His partner in justice was his only hope to remedy their pain. He hoped with all his heart and prayed every night to whoever would listen that it would be called an accidental death. One that was so freakish and out of the blue that three little hearts would never be hurt like they had been in the past. Yet, that did not bring Donald comfort. The only way he would be happy was when he was home again, hugging his sister’s sons, seeing his nephews smiling, watching his kids grow up into young adults. To be with his family of crazy cousins, eating grandma’s apple pies, going on a treasure hunt with his grumpy uncle. 

There was so much Donald never took for granted in life and they were all his family despite their annoying antics; so as he laid in a a 23rd century bed with no feeling in his body and his mind with only the image of numbers swiftly increasing as time flew by, Donald knew he was depressed. Not for the first time in his life, but the worst by far; at least his past bouts of it were in his own era where a family to return to eased his pain. The reward at the end of the day was knowing his loved ones were safe -- unknowing of the vigilante work he had endured to keep it that way. And then there was  One, knowing just the right remedy for his aching heart, ready to be a force of support that Donald could confide all his secrets and tightly sealed emotions to.

Odin Eidolon was a lot like that in Donald’s current circumstances. The businessman had been by his side with silent companionship during the first horrible days. No judgement, no attempt at being some sort of fortune cookie of advice, just a friend with a warm hand to rub over the hero’s back -- wracked with sobs as he laid curled on the bed. He had put everything aside to free up days devoted towards Donald’s transition into the 23rd century, but now those were over. A busy man like Odin could only spare so much time before work called him away, and Donald was a grown ass adult who knew his own ways to cope.

...Still….it hurt.

And the thought of his boys back in the 21st century growing up and  _ gone  _ in the current prison he was now in sent his chest caving in on itself. The existential realization that they were  _ all  _ gone now had him having a crisis. The tears were burning at the corners of his eyes, and his hand snapped to his heart, clenching it with all he had.

No.

_ No. _

_ NO! _

In one lightning quick motion his body sat up, then slouched  forward as his mind fished for something -- _ anything -- _ to distract itself with. 

Food. Yes. He was quickly growing an appetite now that he was not lying down. Odin had left Sunna to to assist him. She would help him grab breakfast -- or lunch at this point.  Breakfast for lunch, yes. Tearing the heavy covers from his body, Donald jumped once, twice on his bottom to reach the bed’s edge and swung his bare feet over. With slippers finally on -- they were what the boys liked to call ‘Grandpa moccasins’ -- the 21st-century man exited his room.

The hallway was long as expected for a mansion. Odin Eidolon’s taste were extravagant, perfect for the mass of wealth he owned. Compared to Scrooge’s gloomy, gothic home, Odin’s was a vibrant victorian palace. Frames of gold held what Donald would have believed were original paintings by old masters; pillars of bright white marble held the structure up and homed vases for display;  and the walls were a brown that was so golden, only at nightfall had he realized their true color. With the afternoon sun shining through Donald found himself squinting. If he remembered correctly, the television room was to the right…..but then again he could be wrong. There were so many halls and doors, and it was far too early to think properly -- especially after a bout of melancholy. 

Fortunately he had runned into the very woman he had wanted to see.

“Oh, Avenger, I was just going to check up on you.” The curly haired droid pressed her fingertips together and smiled;.

“My stomach woke me up.” Truly she still looked like the sun incarnate.

“Perfect, I was hoping you’d be hungry. What would you like for a meal and where do you wish to have it?” 

Watching television would keep his mind distracted. “I was heading to the television room.” He pointed down the hall.

Sunna’s cheeks raised higher. “Were you going to follow the hall all the way down? You’d have to make a left and then another left when you reached the intersection.” She turned around and began to lead the way. 

“Glom, I still can’t catch my bearings here.” He sighed. She obviously found it amusing, but he wasn’t embarrassed.

“What happened to your holopad mister Eidolon gave you?”

“Oh, I couldn’t work it so I left it….somewhere.”

“I’ll fetch you another one while you eat -- it has a navigation app that would help you get around the mansion.”

Of course it did and Odin had failed to mention that. “Geeze…”

Giggling, Sunna looked over her shoulder. “No worries. Now then, what would you like to eat, Avenger?”

* * *

 

    He was hungrier than his stomach had told him, because in no time he had shoved a stack of four pancakes, a handful of bacon strips, two sunny-side up eggs, a few sausages, and a whole plate of hash-browns into his mouth with half a carton of orange juice to wash it all down. Not as good as Grandma’s home-cooked breakfasts, but an entirely different taste in itself that he reasoned was due to the way cooking had evolved over time. He hadn’t even paid attention to the television that Sunna set to 21st-century settings rather than the futuristic 4D viewing style. She placed his new holopad (or maybe she had found the old one) far from his plates and cup as he reached a fork and knife over to grab large portions. Only when his stomach was close to being full did Donald slowdown enough to start up a conversation.

“So what do you do around here?”

From her seat beside him -- leaning on her side against the sofa’s back and legs tucked under her body -- Sunna answered. “I’m akin to mister Eidolons secretary. Do whatever is asked of me, manage his schedules, makes sure he remembers to eat, assist him in the lab, and takes his calls when he’s busy.”

Gulping down a forkful of pancake harder than intended, the Avenger took a silent moment to think over if he really wanted his next question answered.

“He doesn’t ask you for anything…. _ beyond  _ work related jobs, right?”    

“No, never, mister Eidolon respects me not only as an employee, but as an equal. It is an honor to work for him and be paid well for it.”

The apprehension eased off his shoulders, but Donald was left wondering  _ why  _ he had even thought to ask such a crude and personal question. There was  _ more  _ than just the desire to know whether droids were treated like human beings, even more so than the scandalous insinuation that usually came with power held over a employee. Odin continually proved to be a benevolent leader for the rights of droids -- the beings he had been a prime factor in creating -- and outright showed those colours in private  _ and  _ public. Even with his lack of gut feeling that gave Donald the upper-hand in reading a person’s intentions, a small voice in his head wormed its way into his mind. For some reason, the Avenger had  _ needed _ to be assured by an outside voice that Odin was not just a phony, and who better than someone who worked personally beside him. Leave it to his paranoid hero mind to not only cross his T’s, but dot his I’s and double-check line and dot.

A lighter curiosity piped up as he nodded to her answer. “Do droids get paid often for their work?”

“No, many are simply created for specific purposes in big name stores and corporate companies, or bought for free labor.” Sunna reached one thin arm over to grab a napkin, then held it to gingerly wipe away the syrup on the corner of Donald’s mouth. Her press was firm, ending with a smooth trail across the underside of his bottom lip before lifting away.

“Many droids are bought as nannies, while many others are primarily created for time police work.” She smiled.

Clearing his throat, The Avenger looked from the woman’s full lashes and towards the television; he had no clue what was playing after all this time. “The, uhmm, time police don’t pay?” 

“No, but I suppose the amenities they provide can be seen as payment. They give no paycheck, only necessities like a home in a droid’s sanctioned era, clothes, transportation, and money to start them off with. After that, it’s up to the droid to do what they must to survive or else they are seen as a failed field-worker.” 

Lyla had done good for herself then, choosing a career in journalism at Channel Double-Zero news. He could remember the blonde informing him of all her knowledge being installed to her brain and paperwork forged for her identity, providing a means to achieve what she was created and trained to do.

It sounded horrible.

“I guess being made by Odin Eidolon personally has its perks.” He sipped at his orange juice -- refreshingly cold compared to his heated face.

“Yes, but not all of us have or need them. Mister Eidolon creates us, helps us grab hold of our bearings here by his side, then asks us what we would desire.” The freckled woman laid her elbow on top of the sofa and pressed her jaw onto her palm. 

“I wanted to live here and help Odin -- he was never my creator, but rather my idol. His passions ignited my own and I knew I was meant to be by his side.”

“Everyone loves him, huh?”

“Yes, no matter who the person is, they love him in their own way -- as a leader, a friend, an idol, a bachelor, or even a parental figure.” Lifting her head up, Sunna pointed her fingers at herself. “Like I said, he’s my idol, but I can not deny how attractive he is. Alas, I enjoy his friendship more than anything.”

Amazing, Odin Eidolon was a bigger figure than Donald could have ever thought to be. He knew how wealthy and powerful the businessman was with his droid manufacturing empire, yet the man was so humble and down to earth, Donald completely forgot of the true impact Odin held. With only his little finger Odin could take down the most powerful enemy….well, maybe not. His image was  still at risk of being tarnished, which was why he had requested help from The Avenger during Lyla’s trial. Still….truy the Everett Ducklair and Scrooge Mcduck of the 23rd century.

“And you?” His companion brought Donald from his thoughts.

“Hmm?” He blinked before sluggishly lifting his gaze to Sunna -- her hand supporting her head once more.

Lips curled in an impish smile, Sunna asked again. “How do you feel towards mister Eidolon so far?”

“Feel?”

“Do you love him too?”

She must have meant in the same way she idolized him, or how other’s admired him for his leadership -- that was the logical assumption. Yet Donald froze with his fork a mere inch from his mouth, and his eyes wide in….horror? Fear? Disbelief? Embarrassment? It happened so sudden the 21st-century man could not understand why it hit him like that. How long had he even been staring stupidly like this?

“I...guess? He’s a good friend and ally. He’s helped me out a lot, especially now….He’s a good friend.” He tried to explain not only to her, but himself, because really, he had never thought of it. They went on adventures so many times in the past, it never occurred how he felt for Odin besides an companion and pal. It was annoying how he had struggled to say it.

It must have been enough, because the sunny girl grinned. “I’m glad.”

And Donald could of sworn by her tone and the mischievous glint in her eyes that Sunna somehow knew more on the matter than even he.

Narrowing his eyes and cocking a brow, Donald returned her glint with a smirk -- oh, he could play  _ this game _ . “Why, are you afraid I may steal your handsome idol?”

“Oh, no, I’m more worried I may lose my chance at a date with  _ you _ .”

His cheeks flushed, only then realizing how foolish he was to think he could handle those sparkling eyes and golden face. Sunna was no ordinary women, especially not his usual  _organic_ femme-fatales.

Luckily she began to laugh heartily, raising a hand to stifle it, and he joined her so they could change the topic.

Hopefully soon he and Odin could have time for lunch on a regular basis, because if time with Sunna continued like this, Donald knew everything would become increasingly.... _ complicated. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, they ARE the original artworks in the mansion.


End file.
